Snapshots of a Gray World
by Misfitable
Summary: "There is not just black and white in the world. The two colors mix together to form the dominant hue. Gray."  Little bits and pieces of our favorite character's lives after the books end. For Another Artist's 'A Little is a Lot' challenge
1. The End

The woman sat up on her hospital bed, rubbing her eyes sleepily. Storm clouds covered the sun, throwing the room into a gloomy gray. She put her hands in her lap, and a glittering caught her eyes. She glanced down at the wedding band on her finger. Reaching out, she fingered it, sliding it on and off, her mind far away. She knew it was time. Sighing, she pulled a piece of paper and a pencil towards her, shooting one last glance to the window.

_'It probably wasn't supposed to happen like it did. At least, you don't think so. You never believed in fate, did you? But I do. Maybe it's something about lying on a hospital bed and knowing you can't do anything to stop the end. I find it strangely funny too. I survived a hunt around the world for clues that turned out to mostly be garden plants when I was fourteen, but I was defeated by mere bacteria._

_Remember when we first found out that something inside was slowly killing me? That was the first time I saw you cry in public. It scared me more then your yelling and threats to sue._

_In truth, I'm more worried about you then me. You haven't even accepted my death. You were always stubborn.'_ Here she paused.

'_I, on the other hand, know the truth. I am dying. Maybe I'll be dead by morning; if not then, then the next day._

_The smell of markers isn't really helping either.** Sharpies and sticky-notes made up our last memories. **I've been making notes for you for over a month now. Things like "Don't forget to feed the cat," and "Leftovers need to be eaten, think of the kids in Africa." You'd help, coming up with ridiculous ones like, "After feeding the cat, go to the store and get another bird," or "Send leftovers to Africa because Amy's always thinking of Kurt."_

_Funny how it seems forever ago._

_We've been married for three years. If it was any longer, I would have been greatly opposed to my death. But I know that you can live without me. You have before, and you _will_ do it again, you hear me? Wherever I'm going to end up, I'll make sure that you keep on living. Please… for me._

_Oh, look. The sun has come out. You would think this was only weather and the storm clouds have moved away. I was always more of a superstitious person. You'll be coming over to the hospital soon. You're probably getting into the car right now, aren't you? I should probably wrap this up then. You're not going to know I wrote this until I've died._

_Death does nothing. I love you and I always will. I have since you first called me 'love,' even though I was unaware. I just wish that we were to have more time. Maybe if we had gotten our act together earlier on. If only we weren't both stubborn. If only you weren't a Kabra, and I wasn't a Cahill. If you weren't a Lucian and I a Madrigal. If you weren't you and I wasn't me, we probably would have had fewer obstacles in our way. But what's a good love story without the conflict? You're a Kabra, and I guess now I am one too. You're a Lucian and I'm a Madrigal. You're you and I'm me, and it really doesn't make that much difference anymore._

_Love,_

_Amy'_

Hearing footsteps outside her room, Amy stuffed the letter in a bible that she kept under her pillow. She scrawled on her hand quickly, 'in bible.' Looking up, she saw her husband.

"Hey," She said, smiling.

"Hello, love," He responded, bringing a chair towards her bed. He cocked his head. "what was that?"

"What was, what?" She responded innocently.

"What were you writing?"

"Nothing, dear. Nothing at all."

* * *

><p><strong>Word Count- 700<strong> For Another Artist's 'A Little is a Lot' Challenge. Don't worry. They won't all be Amian. I had actually started out trying to make this a no couple story... oops.

I don't own 39 clues, I just got bored and decided it was time to write something after being on this site for a year now.

I know the whole letter thing before you die is cliche, and that a lot of people don't have time to write a letter because they don't know when they're about to die, but everyone's entitled to one cliche, aren't they? xD I swear on my Valkyrie tie that the next one will be more original.

Late, late, late disclaimer: I don't own 39 Clues and I also don't own the chapter title. The chapter title is from My Chemical Romance. It's the song 'The End.'

5/23/2011


	2. Alice

Disclaimer- I don't own the book series 39 Clues. They belong to a multiple of authors... That's a really good idea, isn't it? And the chapter title is the song 'Alice' by Avril Lavigne.

* * *

><p>Usually, it was Amy who read books. Amy, who would sit and discuss them with Grace.<p>

Dan never really liked reading. He had tried once, but it didn't work out. Maybe it was the book. _Alice and Wonderland_ could be confusing for a third grader, after all. He had painstakingly worked his way through it, though. The words had confused him and the double meanings had made it hard(or as Amy would say, _harder_) for him to think.

He remembered that one time when he had been reading the book with Grace. They were sitting in the library, on the window seat that Amy and Grace had always occupied. Now it was Dan's turn and he recalled how proud he was of that.

But then they had started actually _reading_. Dan had gotten frustrated with each word and each seemingly pointless character introduced. Everything was so _confusing_. And the most mind-boggling part of the entire book was Alice herself.

During the whole book, she was going on and on and _on_ about how lost she was. At the time, Dan was about the same age as her, and he knew perfectly well where she was. Heck, it was mentioned on almost every page. Every character told her the exact same thing.

'Welcome to Wonderland.'

'Well, that's Wonderland for you.'

'Deary, you're in Wonderland.'

It was so _annoying_. How many characters had to tell her before she could get that through her head?

Finally, he voiced his irritation. "I don't get it,"

"Don't get what?" Grace asked, from her seat by the window.

"**How can you find someone who was never lost to begin with?" he demanded.**

"Now I'm a bit lost," she joked, closing her own version of the book.

"Alice is always going on about how lost she is or how confused she feels. I know where she is, you know where she is, why can't she? She's not lost; she knows exactly where she is!"

"I think that-and this is my personal opinion, mind you- she is lost in the sense of yes, she knows where she is, but does she know _who_ she is?"

"…huh?" was his eloquent reply.

"It is a truly dreadful thing to know where you are, and know how you got there, but not who you are. Losing yourself is very easy, but finding you, well, that is harder to do. One day, I fear, you will know what it is like to be Alice."

Before Dan could reply- even though he couldn't really even think of one-, Amy had burst in followed by a hungry Saladin who proceeded to jump up on Grace's lap and paw her in search of his food.

"Saladin tore up my book and he won't stop crying!" Amy complained.

With that, the moment was ruined, and Grace stood up, followed by Dan.

Dan didn't think about that book or that moment for years. Actually, it wasn't until he was in China, staring at his sister, who was yelling accusations about _their parents_ in his face, did he remember. Were they Madrigals? Were they good? Were they murders? What were Amy and Dan? Were they Madrigals, or Lucians, or Ekats, or Tomas, or Janus? Were they good? Were they evil?

And finally, Dan fully understood what it was like to be Alice.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, so that is my attempt at the second prompt. The quotations up there about Alice being in Wonderland and the characters telling her she is, is just something I came up with. They are not actual quotes because I was too lazy to go downstairs and get my book to find some like that. <strong>

**Okay, so I got this out just in time, didn't I? xD I was going to wait till tomorrow to see if my beta could respond back, and also because I had to for the competition but then I remembered that I will be gone all day tomorrow, and knowing my luck there will be a huge storm that will blow the power out. And anyway, you don't get Internet while speeding down the highway in an old beat up mini-van. Well, I don't. Do you? if you do, I'm jealous. **

**Sorry for the people who put this story on Story Alert and got wind of a new chapter yesterday. Honestly, I didn't mean to delete it... Sorry...**

**Next post will be in roughly a week. Wish me luck, because there are _a lot_ of better writers in this competition.** ^^"

**Again, sorry for posting early. Completely my fault, but I did just find out about the whole car trip tomorrow... I just freaked out and kicked my sister off the computer so I could post this stupid thing. BECAUSE I STILL DON'T HAVE A FRIGGIN LAPTOP. **

**Word Count:** 567

**Date Published:** 6/5/11 (5 June 2011)


	3. Big Girls Don't Cry

**Word Count: 702**

**Date Published: 6-13-11 or 13 June 2011**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the book series 39 Clues or the chapter title.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Lucians didn't cry.<p>

More specifically, Kabras didn't cry.

It had been drilled into her head at an early age. Crying was FLO, and Natalie was no loser. But here she was, bawling like a baby.

She had taken off her shoes and thrown away her jacket, which left her only in her court room attire. Collapsing on her brother's sofa, she cried and cried and _cried._

Her mascara magically hadn't smeared. Water proof mascara: a girl's best friend. Typically, it was used to help in a girl's relationship with a boy- not a girl's relationship with her own _mother_. Usually, however, mothers didn't shoot their daughters in their foot with a gun. Mothers generally _loved_ their daughters.

Why, why, _why_? Why had the clue hunt mattered to Mummy that much? Had she always been like this? Should Natalie help her? Why would she do that, when Natalie's foot was still bandaged? Should she just try to go on living? What about Mummy? And why, _bloody why_, did Natalie keep calling Isabel, Mummy?

She was broken out of her reverie by a soft tap on her shoulder. She looked up to see her brother staring down at her. Not in a creepy way, but in a brotherly way.

"Do you want breakfast?" Ian asked, offering her a hand.

"If you haven't noticed, it's ten o'clock at night!" Natalie complained, gripping the hand tightly anyway.

"I know," was his only reply as he led the way into the kitchen. Natalie sat on the barstool by the counter. She knew what Ian was trying to do. He had done it before when they were younger.

It was when Natalie had gotten into a fight with Isabel for the first time in her life. Ian and Vikram had just sat and watched while the females fought. It had been over Natalie's grades: 98 percent? How dare Isabel Kabra's daughter get _anything_ _less _than 100 percent? Once Isabel had tired of fighting Natalie, she was sent to her room with no dinner and was told to not come out until morning.

Later that night, Natalie snuck out, tiptoed to her brother's room, and knocked shyly on the door. It had opened and she had stuck her head inside. "Ian?"

"Whaddya want?" he had slurred, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Will you help me?" she had asked, creeping into the room and sitting on her brother's bed.

"With what?" Ian had sat up, blinking at his sister.

"I don't know, I just need someone to talk to…." She had trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

Ian took a long time to respond. Natalie had started to wonder if he had fallen asleep again. "Are you hungry?"

"What?" The question caught her off guard.

"Are you hungry? If you are, we can go down to the kitchens and get something to eat," Ian had explained, tossing his feet over one side of the bed.

"Okay," Natalie had replied, jumping off the bed and waiting for her much slower brother to get ready. "What will we eat?"

"Technically it is morning, so how about having some breakfast?"

Soon, it became like a routine for them. After Isabel had yelled at one of them, the other would wait up for the former to sneak into their bedroom before they'd both head for the kitchens for some breakfast. It happened a lot: no matter how many times Isabel yelled at her, Natalie always came back.

"Am I stupid?" she asked Ian, her mind snapping back to the present.

**He ignored her question and asked, "What kind of cereal do you prefer: Lucky Charms or Pops?"**

She didn't answer. "Ian, seriously. Am I an idiot for believing Mu-Isabel over and over? Was it that bad of a thing for me to want her to love me?"

He leaned over the counter, setting the cereal down. "You're not an idiot, okay? Isabel's just a git. She was a terrible mother, Natalie. At least you see that now." Ian paused. "So what kind of cereal do you want?"

The tears started falling again.

Lucians didn't cry.

More specifically, Kabras didn't cry.

But according to her mother, Natalie wasn't good at being either.

* * *

><p><strong>A.N.- So, this is the first of my drabbles that has been betaed. Thanks to joelle8 for that, because wow this piece would have sucked without her. xD<strong>

**For me to write, this was one of the hardest prompts to write a drabble for. Hope it wasn't a disappointment. If it was, review. If it wasn't, review. If you're reading this story because you are bored and on the computer review. If you're just apathetic about the whole process, then review. And if you know what apathetic means, then, well, respect points to you. ^^**


	4. The Circle Game

**Words: 656**

**Date Published: 6-22-11 or 22 June 2011**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the book series that this fan fiction is based off of, nor do I own the chapter title.**

* * *

><p>"Hey."<p>

"What're you doing here?"

"Well, _that's_ polite. Why don't we try that again?"

"…"

"Hey-"

"Well, that's not correct. I thought British snobs like you were supposed to be all, like, 'Hello, my dear chap, would you like some tea and biscuits?' It's not accurate to say 'hey'."

"While on the subject of things incorrect, your face is erroneous,"

"Yeah? Well, your mom is erroneous!"

"…"

"Oh… I forgot your mom was in prison. Sorry…."

"You forgot? Wish I could."

"...So, um, anyway, you never answered. What _are_ you doing out here?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. This, that. Aimlessly walking in the woods,"

"During a Cahill Peace Meeting?"

"Oh, is that what is happening today? I had no idea!"

"Stupid doesn't look good on you."

"Only thing that doesn't, in my opinion."

"So, back to your 'story'."

"Oh, yes. So, there I was roughing it in the forest-"

"You can't 'rough it' in high heels-"

"-When I stumbled upon this old oak tree. And when I went to sit beneath its branches, imagine my surprise to find someone else already sitting down!"

"…"

"…"

"Ian already told me you needed to exercise your foot every day. There's no need to lie."

"Bugger. I swear that bloody commoner is corrupting him. Truth is _not _that important, people!"

"Two things: they can't hear you and watch what you say about my sister."

"Well, still… truth and honesty are not _that_ important."

"….You're at a Cahill Peace meeting, to bring the branches together and promote peace and honesty."

"Yes? Your point?"

"Never mind, just …never mind,"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"**I wonder if they realize all they do is run in circles all day,**"

"Pardon?"

"I was just thinking about how all the Cahills are always fighting and arguing, quarreling and killing. They never get anything done! Why did I leave the meeting? Because they had started fighting about the best way to gain peace! I thought I'd die of irony!"

"I guess you're right... They haven't really completed any progress or made any big mile stones since the end of the clue hunt…."

"Exactly! The Cahills' biggest accomplishment, if you ask me, is being able to sit in a room together without killing one another. And to think Cahills run most of the governments around the world!"

"When you look at it that way, it seems rather depressing."

"Oh, it is. All they do is march in circles! Day in and day out. Circle upon circle! Would it kill them to walk straight?"

"You're right."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"Wow, I just realized..."

"Realized what?"

"I just had an intelligent conversation with Mr. Wanna-be Ninja!"

"How do you think I feel? I just sat here and talked for two hours with Miss Killer High-heel!"

"You aren't going to say anything about the intelligence and wit that I poured into this conversation?'

"Nope."

"…"

"Don't glare at me!"

"…"

"It's…creepy?"

"…"

"Uh… you're prettier when you smile?"

"Thank you,"

"Well, anyway, this has been… fun."

"I've liked it as well."

"Would you like to do this next year? Maybe?"

"I would… enjoy that."

"Great! So… should we hug?"

"…"

"No need to look so disgusted! How about a fist bump?"

"…"

"No? Okay, no need to get moody. Why not just a simple handshake?"

"That'll do. Let's meet here again next year."

"Yeah, okay."

"…"

"I extended my hand. That's invitation for you to shake it,"

"I know what a hand shake is!"

"Good, now you take the offered hand, and slowly move it up and- OW!"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"Hey! That was not a hand shake! That was a hug!"

"No it wasn't it! It was a… a hugshake! No, a handhug! Yeh, it was a handhug! What, don't have those in England?"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"How…is it… possible…for girls…to run…so fast… in…high-heels?"

"Call it a gift!"

* * *

><p><strong>I'm so sorry I'm so late at getting this out. My internet was down for a couple of days so I couldn't. Dx<br>**

**Before all you haters come to hate, someone had asked me to do this pairing. Usually, I am not inclined to any pairing at all for the 39 Clues books, because I like to take each character and analyze them independently. Anyways, for me it's not one of those books that I could get into a huge discussion about which couple is better with my friends. Oh, and if you don't know what the heck I'm talking about, regarding this pairing and this chapter, then you need to reread this fiction.**

**I had wanted to challenge myself and do an all dialogue story, because it's a lot harder than almost any other kind. You have to have the character describe the setting and what they're feeling out loud.**

**Last note: I think I only have one more drabble that I am going to be able to do. I go to a month long summer camp in July with no computers allowed. Don't worry (if you are), because I'll just do the drabbles when I get back.**


	5. Which to Bury, Us or the Hatchet?

**Disclaimer**- I do not own this book series nor do I own the chapter title. That belongs to the wonderful and fabulous band called Relient k

**Words- **623

**Date published**- 6-25-11 or 25 June 2011

**I wish I could communicate better with my beta better. :/ all meh fault. Dx**

* * *

><p>You're mad. More than mad, actually. You're livid. Who are you angry at? Your own flesh and blood, your own son, Hamilton.<p>

But you know how to control your emotions in times when it really counts. 'Breathe in and out, in and out. Whatever the kids did this time wasn't that bad.'

Except this time, it is. Keeping your face as neutral as a Tomas can, you turn around to look at your son.

"You lost."

"I know."

"Losing is not okay. It is not what I expect from you, do you understand?"

Hamilton leans against the wall and makes a noncommittal grunt.

Your eye twitches and the edges of your mouth pull down. Usually, your son would cower before you, apologize for whatever he did wrong, and then scamper out the door, his tail between his legs. You remember wishing before that Hamilton had the guts to face you like a man, instead of being afraid. Now that your son is unaffected by you, however, you feel strangely proud... yet at the same time, you want him afraid again.

Calm approach: no go. Bring out the big missiles. "WHAT DID YOU SAY?"

"I said okay!" Hamilton yells back, his hands clenching.

Good, good. Anger is better than indifference.

"And do you know what losing makes you?" Calm. Might throw him off.

"What does it make me, Dad?" Hamilton doesn't sound scared or angry. He just sounds tired. Not good, not the result you were looking for. Gloves off now.

"IT MAKES YOU A LOSER!"

"And losing is always bad, huh? Even when it's to save your friends and your family? Does that still make losing still bad?"

You splutter. The way your son is talking, he sounds like an Ekat; he looks like a Lucian, leaning against the wall like that, and is acting like anything _but_ Tomas.

Ignore the point that he is _right._

"You still gave up your clues _willingly_! That is a disgrace! That is losing! YOU ARE A LOSER!"

"Think about it Dad, I saved lives. You may call me a loser, and heck **I may **_**be **_**a loser, but I feel like a winner.**"

This is not what you thought would happen. "EXPLAIN YOURSELF."

"Dan and Amy would have died. They're my friends, Dad- we're friends." You think you see something flicker in his eyes at the word 'friend', but you convince yourself that you imagined it. "And Natalie and Ian. I hate their guts, but that doesn't mean I want to see them spread out on the floor in a pile of blood! Not to mention that you and the rest of my family were tied to gravestones that were about to explode! What would you have done in my position?"

You pause, thinking it over.

He speaks before you. "Weigh your answer carefully, Dad. All my respect and love for you rests on your response." His chin and eyebrow rise as he looks at you.

You think some more.

And some more.

And more.

Finally, you have your answer. You're about to open your mouth and tell him the truth, when you see his face. It's twisted in an expression akin to disgust.

"Never mind, Dad: you just gave me your answer." He turns and leaves, throwing one last glare over his shoulder, before he slams the door.

You yell his name, but he doesn't come back. Turning, you sit behind your desk in an office you barely use, in a house where the people make it a home.

You had hesitated.

You thought too long, and you hesitated.

Now nothing you ever do will put your relationship with your son back to the way it had once been.

But, really. Your son should have known you don't think well under pressure.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note(s)<strong>-I know, the idea for the drabble is overused. But when I think loser/winning I think of Charlie Sheen and Hamilton Holt. Sorry, sorry. xD And again I wanted to challenge myself so I wrote in second person. Is it okay? And I know that Hamilton never really got this mad at his dad, but how do you know for sure? Maybe they had a big argument when they got home and Hamilton just blew up and nothing was ever the same? Hm? Yeah, I know that didn't happen. but it was fun to write. xD

Sadly, I'm not that fond of the ending. Usually I have fun making up endings (some happy, some not) but this time... I just couldn't think of a good way to do it. :/

See you guys in a month!

...Boy will I have a lot to catch up on... Dx


End file.
